Sunflowers

I turn my attention towards you as the sunflowers turn their necks towards the sun. My life is an endless stream of water feeding your garden, an endless row of trees shading your house, and perhaps an endless night holding you - my qamar.

If words would do justice to how beautiful you are, I would have to teach eight billion people a new subject - a new revelation.

Buried inside my letters are words that merely describe your outline, with each shadow of my so black stroke gently gliding over adjectives to suit you. My ink, O my beloved ink loves you more than I do, for when I get tired of framing sentences - the ink structures paragraphs against my will.

Shallow. Shallow I thought my love would be, for when I saw you, you reminded me of my mother.

Your eyes hold a million treasures and a million dreams, and those dreams, their own stories. I wish to be just one of those million stories, even if it is of less importance inasmuch as you remember me.

Your love by Allah has never forsaken me, and if I ever desert you - against the will of He who created me, you by His will water my dusty sand and from it grow trees of love and harmony.

The air surrounding your ethereal self shies away in awe, indeed it knows it is surrounding a heavenly form.

What made you fall for me? Were it my false promises or my fake smile? Perhaps an alternate personality? If there is a yes to any of these questions - I will turn the world to its toes to make all my lies a visual truth.

Ever radiant is your grace which no eye can deny, my eyes are now blind as they seek what lies within you. You make me float on a blanket of clouds and if I am ever to fall, you make sure I am accompanied by your tears.

Indeed a creation of perfection people say, but I see perfection in your flaws sparkling with brilliance like a diamond shimmers.

I take your leave and leave you to your worldly affairs, by Allah talking about you makes me question my existence.

Yours, and yours only,
Ihsaan Want